


...Comes Around

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers 2018: Hurt/Comfort edition [21]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 16:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16371131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: Part 2 of 2.  Illya gets a chance at some trickery and subterfuge to avenge Napoleon.





	...Comes Around

Sometimes, Illya’s own deviousness surprised even him. Technician George Dennell owned him a favor—and Illya was ready to cash it in, asking him to get Waverly down to the lab and keep him occupied before the meeting with the applicant for the new Berlin head could go underway.

George was true to his word; the moment Waverly had left his office, thinking it would only take five minutes to see what important developments George had asked him to take a look at, Illya took his place, explaining to Lisa that he would explain to the applicant that Waverly would be only slightly delayed.

He sat at the circular table; Baba Yaga the office cat wandered into the room and leaped onto his lap, sensing something afoot. Illya gently gave the cat a few skritches behind the ears, causing her to purr loudly—at least until the door opened and the job applicant walked in. her purring ceased almost immediately as he walked in, and her ears flattened with intense dislike for the man.

“I was supposed to meet Mr. Waverly here,” the man said. “We were to have an interview to decide my taking over as section head of Berlin.”

“Mr. Waverly has been called away on an important emergency,” Illya said, calmly, as Baba Yaga’s tail twitched. “I will be handling this interview in his stead.”

“I see…” the man said. He frowned. “Do I know you?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not,” Illya said, without any emotion. “Shall we begin?”

“Er, yes…” the man said. “You’ve already seen my CV, I presume.”

“Yes, I have,” Illya said. “A move impressive amount of experience, I must agree. However… There was one thing that left me rather concerned.”

“What’s that?”

“You were in very close association with one Gerald Strothers for a great many years,” Illya pointed out.

“Well, yes, we were assigned as partners and worked very closely together as a result,” the man admitted.

“Hmm,” Illya said, pretending to rub his chin in thoughtfulness. “Then my concerns are not unfounded.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand…”

“Gerald Strothers was recently dishonorably removed from his position—using unauthorized torture methods against an innocent U.N.C.L.E. agent and failing to notice that Beldon was a traitor in his zeal to prove this innocent man as guilty.”

“No one suspected Beldon!” the man countered. “And as for Strothers, I believe that he wasn’t wrong about that American! And even if he was wrong, why must I suffer for something that I did not do?”

“So you, an innocent man, does not want to be held accountable for misdeeds that you were not responsible for,” Illya said. “And yet, you have no qualms about seeing an innocent suffer for something he was not responsible for?”

“I believe him to be guilty,” the man insisted. “And given the opportunity, I will prove it!”

Wordlessly, Illya played back the footage from the autopsy security cameras.

“We had these installed after it became a hazing ritual among the new probationary agents to sneak into the autopsy room and take Polaroids of a corpse. It also serves as a nice method of capturing threats given to our personnel.”

The threat to Napoleon played back in full picture and sound. The man sat flabbergasted for a moment before scowling at Illya.

“Give me that tape!” he hissed.

“I think not,” he said. “This interview is over—you will not get the position.”

The next thing Illya knew, the man had seized him and had hurled him against the wall. Baba Yaga screeched, attacking the man with claws and teeth. The man ignored her, going for Illya again.

Waverly soon returned, followed by Napoleon, who had been alerted by Lisa to the noise. Waverly stared, stunned, while Napoleon leaped into action, pulling the man off of Illya, who rubbed his neck where he had been seized.

“You can threaten me all you want,” Napoleon hissed. “But you will not lay a hand on my partner.”

The man glared at them, and then turned to Waverly.

“You, see, Sir? They are in this together to discredit me!”

“I think it was very clear that you were the one who attacked Mr. Kuryakin; he made no effort to defend himself—no doubt because you would accuse him of instigating it.”

Baba Yaga hissed loudly at the man, her back arched angrily.

“A temperament and immense moral blindness such as yours is not one we like to encourage at U.N.C.L.E.,” Waverly continued. “You will be discharged from your position post haste.”

“You can join your friend and former partner Strothers in a search for a new job,” Illya said, coldly.

“…So that’s why you had it in for me,” Napoleon said, eyes arching in realization. “You wanted to get me out to avenge Strothers.”

The man merely cursed at Napoleon as other agents came in to apprehend him.

“Well, Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin, I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Waverly said. “But I thank the both of you for using such a clever way of bringing this to my attention. Well done.”

“I don’t deserve any praise,” Napoleon said. “This was all Illya’s doing. …How did you know?”

“The room where he made his threat to you was the autopsy room,” Illya said. “Neither of you noticed that I was in there. So I saw to it that I would give him a swift and humiliating exit.”

Napoleon smiled.

“Thanks, Tovarisch. I owe you one.”

“Believe me, Napoleon… The pleasure was mine.”


End file.
